


Concubine 'Verse

by ashavahishta



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Jealousy, M/M, Prostitution, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-24
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 08:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashavahishta/pseuds/ashavahishta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three stories set in a universe where Nick is a prince and Joe is his personal concubine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nicholas is the son of a King, and as the son of the King he has certain responsibilities. One of those responsibilities is, unfortunately, making nice with the gentlemen of the court who will one day be Nick’s loyal subjects.

Which is why Nick is out hunting with Duke Cyrus and his men instead of with friends his own age.

They’ve been riding all day when they finally arrive back at the Duke’s manor, and Nick is grateful to dismount from his horse and hand the reins over to the waiting stable boy. He’s about to head inside, looking forward to a cool drink, when there’s a shout behind him.

Cyrus is cursing at one of the other stable boys, a filthy, skinny youth dressed in what Nick can only describe as rags. Nick’s surprised – Cyrus’ other servants are clean and well-dressed. Cyrus is towering over the boy, who has his head ducked, eyes to the ground. Nick ducks into a little nook in the stable door and watches, interested. He’s always hated Cyrus and proof of cruelty may be just the excuse he needs to stay away from him in the future.

"How dare you come out here dressed in these rags, covered in dirt and filth like some street rat! You would shame me in front of nobility? You’re disgusting, go and wash yourself and find some more clothes."

"The stable master has taken my clothes, my lord, and the well runs dry of water. If you were to find me some more, I would be glad to bathe…"

Nick can’t help but snort a little at the gall of the boy, despite it being rewarded with a resounding slap. Cyrus is blustering, red with rage.

"You dare speak back to me! CARTER!"

A squat, blond man comes running out of the stables. "Yes, my lord?"

"Why have you taken the boy’s clothes?"

"Tis punishment, my lord. For talking back. He’s more trouble than he’s worth, that one."

"Aren’t they all?" Cyrus sighs to himself. He turns back the boy and slaps him again, seemingly for his own amusement, and guffaws as he watches the boy double over, clutching his cheek.

"That’s enough." Nick says, and steps out from his hiding place.

They both look up, the boy still holding his face and Cyrus, wide eyed and embarrassed. "Your Highness…"

"Be quiet, Cyrus." Nick snaps, and stalks over to the boy, pulling his riding gloves off.

He reaches a hand out and cups the boy’s jaw, tilting his face this way and that, inspecting him. The boy flinches at first, maybe expecting to be hit again, but Nick is gentle and he calms after a moment, letting Nick look at him. The body under the rags is thin, malnourished, and Nick spots scars on his shoulder that can only be from a whip. His hair obviously hasn’t seen a brush in weeks, and it’s so matted with dirt that Nick can’t even tell its colour. Most of the boy’s face is obscured by a short, dark beard, but the wide, soft hazel eyes are pleasing in an exotic sort of way.

"You beat him regularly, Duke Cyrus?"

"Aye, my lord. He’s willful, this one, and lazy. Oftentimes the other servants find him lazing in the fields, reading, when he ought to be working."

Nick raises an eyebrow. "You can read?" he asks, addressing the boy directly for the first time.

He nods. "My mother taught me, Your Highness."

"Interesting. Where did you get him, Cyrus?"

"Off the street, my lord. He was being rented out as a pleasure slave, and my daughter, kind heart that she is, insist I buy him. He’s useless for real work, though, I was planning on selling him back to a brothel soon enough."

"Don’t." Nick says, surprising himself. There’s something about the boy’s eyes – that spark of intelligence and rebellion, that’s somehow so appealing. "I’d like to buy him from you."

They both know it’s a demand and not a request.

 

The next day his head is so full of court business that Nick doesn’t even think about the slave boy he rescued until Gregory is getting him ready for bed.

"What did you do with that boy, Gregory? Has he been taken care of?"

"I had some of the maids bathe him and left instructions for him to be fed, my lord. He’s sleeping in the stables until you decide what’s to be done with him."

Nick slips into his sleep shirt and pants and sits down on the edge of his four poster. "Dress him in something nice and bring him upstairs."

"Something nice, my lord?"

"One of the pageboy’s uniforms, perhaps. I’d like to know if he’s suitable to work in the castle."

"Yes, sire."

When Gregory returns with the boy, Nick has to stop and gape for a moment, wide eyed. For a moment he thinks Sir Henrie is playing a joke on him again, sending him one of the male pleasure slaves from that brothel he frequents. But no, it is the same boy, just so, so different.

Nick dismisses Gregory with a wave of his hand and beckons him closer.

"What is your name?"

"Joseph, sire."

He’s dressed in household uniform as Nick requested, cream breeches and supple leather boots with a stiff royal blue jacket across his skinny shoulders. Without the dirt caking them Nick can see the skin of his hands is a shade darker than his own, a sort of pale gold. Joseph's hair’s been tamed completely, washed and cut so the tangled mat of curls and dirt is now soft, shiny waves which brush just above his shoulders, black as ink.

The most notable difference, of course, is his face. The beard is gone completely, replaced by flawless skin and a strong jawline. Joseph’s mouth is pink and generous, and he stares back at Nick, eyes wide, waiting.

Nick reaches out and cups his hand over Joseph’s chin again, enjoying the soft skin under his fingers.

"You’re quite lovely, aren’t you?" he murmurs.

Joseph blushes, thick, sooty eyelashes brushing his cheeks when he lowers his eyes demurely. And _oh_. If Nick hadn’t already decided to keep him as his own, that would have decided it.

 

Court drags on, and on, and on. Lord Dawson and Lord Peppington have some petty dispute they wish the King to oversee, and Nick lounges on his throne, mindless with boredom and trying not to stare out the window, where he can just make out Joe lying on the lawn with a book in his hands.

In the months since Joe was elevated so concubine status he’s sunk his teeth into the royal lifestyle like Nick could never have expected. His clothes have become rich and fine; he spends his days laughing with the ladies of the court and reading to his heart’s content. Nick is glad to see him so happy, and only hopes Joe will not start to act above his station and believe he has any real power around the courts. Any rumour of such behaviour will have the King selling him halfway across the country, which is the last thing Nick could want.

He returns to his rooms weary and grumpy, tugging at his cufflinks and pulling his heavy jacket off. "Send for Joe, please, Gregory," he asks.

 

It’s not long before Joe’s inside, shutting and locking the heavy door to Nick’s chambers and approaching Nick with a soft smile on his face. He’s wearing loose black pants and a thin shirt, and his hair’s damp.

"Did I interrupt your bathing, Joseph?"

"No matter, your highness. I’m sure you’ll give me reason to bathe again before long."

Nick smirks, and pulls Joe in for a wet kiss, sucking on Joe’s tongue and letting his fingers slip under Joe’s shirt to dance over his hips.

He pulls away from Joe’s warm mouth and indicates his restrictive court clothing.

"Get these off me, will you?"

 

Joe strips Nick gently, pulling his shirt over his shoulders and undoing his trousers with deft fingers, rubbing teasingly over Nick’s cock before bending down to struggle against Nick’s boots. Finally Nick’s free and he sighs with relief, settling back into a cushy chair and regarding Joe. "Your turn, pet."

Joe pulls the shirt over his head, lets the pants slide down his hips, and he stands there, naked and beautiful, for one moment before sinking gracefully to his knees in front of Nick.

 

Joe doesn’t waste time, just opens his mouth and takes Nick cock, sucking him slow and wet. Nick groans and sinks one hand into Joe’s luscious hair, glad he hasn’t let anyone cut it to a more conservative length. He lets Joe work at his cock for awhile, just watching his pink mouth stretch around his dick and letting the tension of the day flow out of his muscles. Joe’s sucking him luxuriously, like he has all the time in the world, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than on his knees with the Prince’s cock down his throat.

When it gets to the point that Nick’s holding himself back from fucking into Joe’s mouth until he comes, he pulls off with a reluctant moan and pants, "On the bed, face down."

Joe complies, stretches out on the bed like he owns the place and glancing back over his shoulder with an affectionate sort of smirk.

"Thought you might be too tired for this, your highness."

"I’ve told you before, Joe, none of this ‘your highness’ business when we're in bed. It’s just Nick. And I’m never too tired for this."

"Fine, _Nick_ , come and do it then."

Nick fights back a smile at the insolence that so intrigued him the first time he met Joe, and slaps lightly at Joe’s ass, earning a soft gasp.

"Spread. Are you ready for me?"

"Always, my lo- Nick."

Nick settles himself over Joe and lines himself up, pushing the head of his dick against Joe’s hole and finding it already slick with oil. Waiting for him.

He moans a little, letting himself sink slowly into Joe’s body in one heady push. Joe sighs under him, a long, pleased noise. Nick raises himself with his hands on the bed on either side of Joe’s back, starts to thrust leisurely. Sometimes he wants Joe so bad he could cry from it, has to escape the darkness of his father’s chambers and seek Joe out, fuck him urgently in some dark nook and pant a quick release into Joe’s neck. Tonight is different. He’s still turned on, still hard and tense and sweaty with it, but Joe’s body feels so good, clenched hot around his cock, that Nick never wants this to end.

He fucks Joe in slow, measured pushes, leaning forward to practically drape himself over Joe’s back and mouth lazily at the soft skin he finds there. The relaxed pace slows everything down until Nick feels like he’s in a kind of sex-drugged haze, everything blocked out but the hot drag of his cock inside Joe, the sweat beading in the small of Joe’s back, and the quiet, hitching breaths Joe takes between thrusts. The good feeling builds and builds but Nick doesn’t speed up, too caught up in Joe’s heat. He wants to come like this, slow and lazy and so hot, fill Joe up so perfect.

Joe’s breaths are getting shorter and harsher, and he’s making these desperate sort of whimpering noises, his fingers twisting in the sheets. "Alright, Joe?" Nick asks, quiet.

"Please," Joe pants. "Nick, I can’t – unghh – driving me crazy. Faster, you have to move, oh, you have to go harder."

Nick raises up, puts one hand on the bed to support himself and slips the other underneath Joe’s chest to stroke and pinch at his nipple. Joe whines, wild with it, and rolls his hips down to meet Nick’s cock, trying to take him harder, deeper, trying to get himself off. Finally, Nick lets himself go, pulling all the way out of Joe’s body and slamming back in until he’s buried to the hilt. Joe grunts with the force of it and lets out a loud, long moan. "Yeah, that’s it, fuck me – Oh, faster – "

Nick does as he’s asked, fucking in hard and rough and unsteady, too caught up in it to work up a rhythm. Joe’s stretched out underneath him, begging for it and moaning like the whore they both sometimes forget he is. He comes first, gasping into the pillow and collapsing. Nick doesn’t slow down, just keeps fucking into the hot clutch of Joe’s ass, leaning forward on both his hands and thrusting so hard that the curtains of his stupid four poster sway and shake. He comes, finally, spilling into Joe’s body and collapsing on top of him.  
   



	2. Chapter 2

When Nick returns to his chambers one night, he finds Joe already sprawled on the four poster bed, sound asleep. Nick can't help a smile as he walks over, taking off his leather riding gloves as he passes and using one to slap lightly at Joe's shoulder. He sits with his back facing Joe, bending over to peel off his boots.

Suddenly there's warmth at his back and hands smoothing over his chest, already undoing the ties on his tunic.

"Thank god," Joe breathes into his ear, and begins to lay hot, sucking kisses on Nick's neck. "I was going mad waiting for you."

"Yes, you looked frantic." Nick teases, holding his arms out and allowing Joe to pull the tunic off. Joe tugs him back til Nick's lying back on the bedspread and Joe can crawl over him, sitting on his thighs and smiling down at him.

"I worried myself to sleep." Joe says seriously, and Nick lets a laugh bubble up in his chest, grinning into Joe's mouth when Joe kisses him.

 

Nick wakes a few hours later, spooned behind Joe and still sheathed inside Joe's body. He feels warm and content and doesn't move right away. Actually, the heat of Joe around his dick is so good that he considers waking Joe up for another round before morning. Joe beats him to it though, yawning hugely and touching his hand to Nick's where it's resting on Joe's stomach. "You can go again, if you want. Just don't expect me to move much."

"It's alright." Nick replies, pulling out of Joe but not away. He turns onto his back and lets Joe roll into his side, rest his head on Nick's shoulder.

"So what's the big news from the throne today?" Joe asks, yawning again. He asks the same question, or a variation thereof, every day and it's Nick's cue to tell of what went down in the Royal Hall that day. It's usually pretty boring - border disputers, grain shortages, a problem in the treasury. But Nicks finds the discussion relaxing, and Joe makes the perfect soundboard. He has an unrivalled talent for knowing everything that's going on in the castle at any time. Nick suspects the hours he doesn't spend in Nick's bed is filled with hearing and spreading gossip. He does nothing to discourage it - Joe often knows things no one else does and his advice to Nick is usually sound.

It's been a quiet day and Nick is finished soon enough. They fall silent, and Nick realises with a start that he's been stroking his fingers lightly over Joe's back as he talked. Joe's skin is warm and silky soft, despite the thick, uneven whip scars that mar some of it, a gift from Joe's troubled childhood. Nick finds that even though he has no interest in having sex with Joe right now, he likes Joe's weight on top of him, likes touching Joe like this, with no expectation, no meaning except an easy closeness. The thought sets off an alarm bell in his head but he brushes it aside. 

"I should go back to my quarters." Joe slurs, sounding half asleep again.

"Stay." Nick says, surprising himself.

Joe raises himself up to look Nick in the eyes, sleepy-soft and confused. "Why?"

Because I want to wake up with you, Nick thinks, and the warning bell sounds again.

"You said it was cold down there with the other servants. I have a warm fire and a very-" he runs his hand down Joe's back to squeeze briefly at the muscle of Joe's backside. "- warm bed."

Joe grins wickedly. "Yes you do," His expression turns inquisitive again. "Nick, why do you care whether I'm cold or not?"

Nick feels his face heat up. "Well, you're not much use to me frozen, are you?" he says casually.

Joe's smile changes to something fonder, softer. "No," he replies and tilts his head to press his lips to Nick's chest. "I suppose I'm not."

 

 

In the morning, Joe is already up when Nick wakes, standing at the floor length window and looking out at the gardens.

Nick rises from the bed and walks over to him, pressing his chest to Joe's back and slipping one hand into Joe's undergarments. 

Joe laughs. "You're insatiable," he murmurs into the cool morning air.

"That's what I have you for. Come to bed."

Joe shakes his head. "The delegates from Aurora are arriving this morning and you're to receive them with the king, remember? You have to be ready."

Nick groans and drops his head down to rest his face in the skin between Joe's shoulder-blades. "Can't I just stay here all day?"

Joe pulls away and walks over to Nick's armoire, pulling out a handsome navy tunic and some grey breeches. "Well, you could, but you wouldn't be a very good prince, would you?"

"No." Nick admits, and reluctantly sets about getting ready for the day.

 

The Auroran delegates are, as Nick's father has repeatedly told him, extremely important guests. Relations between the two kingdoms are delicate, have been for centuries, and it's been the king's life work to establish peace. Nick is late to greet them, taking his place at his father's side just as the Auroran procession turns into the castle's lavish entryway. King Paul doesn't even look at him, just continues to stare coldly at the oncoming noblemen. "You're late."

Nick folds his hands in front of him, offers a tight smile to the gathered Court. "I'm sorry, father. I overslept."

The procession halts in front of them and servants begin to pour from the carriages. "Spending time with that boy of yours, I expect."

Nick shifts on his feet, keeping his expression neutral as irritation licks at him. "Let's not, Sire."

"I am merely saying, Nicholas -"

"I don't want to talk about it -"

"That if you spent less time with that filthy whore you'd be a better prince -"

"He's not filthy -"

"And besides, he's only using you -"

"Prince Julian!" Nick interrupts, stepping forward to greet the handsome older man, their most important guest for the week long visit. Julian is in his mid-twenties, a tall, broad-shouldered man with straw-blonde hair and glittering green eyes. His mouth curls upwards as he shakes Nick's hand, but his grip is not friendly and neither is his smile.

"Prince Nicholas," Julian says, voice smooth as polished leather. "How lovely to meet with my young counterpart again. I look forward to many days of difficult negotiations."

The king laughs in that horrible fake way he has when he's trying to impress people. "I'm sure we'll all have a wonderful week, Prince Julian. Please, let's get you settled in."

 

It takes a few hours to get Julian, his dozens of ministers, servants and advisors, to be settled into the East Wing of the castle. After that, Nick is required to join his father, Julian, and several noblemen for a stroll around the castle grounds. It's supposed to be for easy conversation, but Nick is well aware that it's just an excuse for his father the gloat about the riches of his own kingdom, to show off the extensive gardens and well-manicured lawns. They dine on one of the outer terraces, and it's halfway through the meal that Julian trails off mid-sentence, staring at something over Nick's shoulder. "My, my," he murmurs softly. "What is this vision?"

Nick turns in his chair, sees the group of courtesans taking tea on the other end of the terrace. Nick notices nothing special; just yards of rich fabric and delicate movements, soft laughter that carries on the wind. The women of the court are admittedly beautiful but Nick has spent his life with them; they're more sisters to him than anything else. The only person of interest is Joe, at the centre of the group, dressed in forest green, probably exchanging gossip with the red-headed woman on his left. He catches Nick's eye and offers a soft smile and a discreet wave.

"Ah, everyone knows the ladies of our court are the most stunning in the world," the king says smugly. "Who was it that caught your eye? I'm sure we can arrange an introduction."

"The ladies are pretty," Julian agrees with a nod. "but I was actually more interested in the young man."

Nick's stomach does an unpleasant roll as the other noblemen look at Julian in surprise. King Paul recovers first. "I was not aware your tastes were so...varied, Prince Julian."

Julian's eyes don't leave Joe. "I appreciate loveliness in all its forms, Your Highness. That is a lovely creature. A relation, perhaps?"

"Not quite," the king says, cutting a brief glance at Nick before continuing. "He belongs to my son, actually. Pure self-indulgence to own a personal concubine, in my opinion, but he seems to get some amusement out of him."

Joe is laughing, dark hair glittering in the sunlight, and the heat in Julian's gaze as he watches makes Nick uncomfortable. "You've chosen well," he says to Nick, his tone approving. "He's a fine specimen."

The king smiles. "I'm sure Nicholas would be only too happy to loan him to you during your visit, Julian."

Julian raises his glass. "Wonderful."

Nick turns all his focus to his food, trying to hide the anger boiling under his skin. Other royalty may deem it fit to trade and loan their concubines out, and it's fairly commonplace, but Joe has not shared the bed of anyone but Nick since his arrival, and Nick doesn't like the idea of Julian borrowing Joe. He can't respond to Julian - an outright refusal will only cause the king to question Nick favouring Joe, but Nick can't bring himself to say yes, either. He changes the subject and hopes that Julian will forget about Joe before the day is over.

 

The royal kitchens outdo themselves for the welcome banquet that evening, and the large hall is warm and loud, ale flowing freely as the royal family, Auroran guests and members of the court alike sink their teeth into rich pheasant pie and a hot vegetable broth that warms Nick's bones. The royal table is raised slightly above the rest of the hall, the most important courtesans and ministers dining closest to the royals, commoners taking up the rest of the space. Joe is usually seated at a separate table but close by, close enough that Nick can beckon him over to talk once the formal part of the evening is over.

Tonight, however, he doesn't get the chance. When dinner is over and the musicians begin to play, Nick looks up, ready to call Joe over, and finds that Julian has beaten him to the punch. The other prince has pulled up a chair beside Joe, leaning in close, hand on Joe's arm. Joe is lovely in a black shirt with red edgings, wavy hair brushing his shoulders when he tosses his head back and laughs. He's being his usual charming self and Nick's always liked that about Joe, how he can be friends with anyone, servants and princes alike, but tonight it sparks something dark and angry, low in Nick's gut. He clenches his hand around the edge of the table, anger growing as he watches Julian touching Joe, flirting with him. Julian's hand moves from Joe's arm to his thigh, rests there. Joe doesn't move away. Nick glances at the doorway, at the half dozen armoured knights whose sole purpose in life is to keep him happy. Thinks about having Julian dragged away, pull his filthy hands off Joe and just be rid of him forever. When Julian reaches out to tuck Joe's hair behind his ear, touch lingering on Joe's neck, Nick is done. 

He stands from the table, throws his napkin down and squares his shoulders as he strides down to the pair. They look up, and Julian at least has the grace to look slightly guilty. "Nicholas," he says with a nod. "I was just telling Joseph about Aurora's beautiful lakes. I was hoping that one day he might like to visit."

"The prince says that some nights, they light torches and sleep under the stars. Doesn't that sound amazing, your highness?" Joe says, addressing Nick with a wide, open smile.

"Amazing," Nick says tightly. "Time for bed, Joseph."

He raises his eyebrows meaningfully and lets his hand drop down to rest on Joe's shoulder, not minding at all that he's knocking Julian's hand aside in the process.

Joe looks back and forth between Julian and Nick, then pushes his chair back and stands, lets Nick curve his arm possessively around his waist as Julian watches on, his expression annoyed. "Don't like to share, do you, Nicholas?" Julian says, lips curling into that infuriating smirk. "Not very polite."

"It's also not polite to touch things that don't belong to you," Nick retorts sharply. "Goodnight, Julian."

He barely gives Joe a moment to say goodbye before he's steering him away, pausing just long enough to bid the king goodnight before dragging Joe upstairs to his chambers.

 

Nick feels wound-up and frantic, tension pulling every muscle in his body tight as he slams the door to the bedroom and pushes Joe up against it. He presses them together, already going hard when he rolls his hips to meet Joe's. He fists his hands in Joe's long hair, tugs him into a deep, hard kiss. Joe gasps, hands coming up to clutch the edges of Nick's heavy jacket, tugging him closer and then moving to scrabble at the buttons. Nick breaks away from the kiss long enough to shrug out of the jacket, slams into Joe again and gets his arms around Joe's waist, reaching under his shirt to run his hands up and down Joe's back, still kissing him like he's starving for it. When Nick pulls back to undress properly, tugging at Joe's pants, Joe chuckles lowly. "He really got to you, huh?"

"What?" Nick says shortly, kicking out of his heavy formal shoes.

"Julian," Joe replies. "The way you were glaring when he was talking to me. I've never seen you so angry."

Finally fully undressed, Nick reaches for the small bottle of oil on his dresser. "I don't like it when people touch what's mine."

He tugs Joe away from the doorway and onto the bed, watching as Joe sits on the edge of it and leans back on his hands, waiting. Nick shakes his head. "Knees, pet."

Joe smiles slyly, and turns over to kneel on the thick velvet bedspread, skin gold against the deep burgundy. Nick climbs up behind him, running his hand from Joe's neck all the way to the curve of his ass, feeling Joe arch up responsively into his touch. "He was barely touching me," Joe says casually, drawing in a quick breath when Nick rubs slippery fingers roughly over the rim of his hole.

Nick's mind flashes again to the memory of Julian's hand on Joe's shoulder, his neck. Julian's hot gaze when Joe had tipped his head back to drink, bared his throat. "It was enough," Nick replies, and presses two fingers inside Joe, a long, deep push. Joe groans and reaches underneath himself, jerking his cock in quick movements. Nick's cock is throbbing, he feels strung out with arousal. He's impatient, only stretching Joe for a minute before he's pressing the head of his cock against Joe's hole and nudging his hips forward. Joe opens around him, clingy and warm, and Nick starts a steady thrusting straight away. He's already panting, hands tight around Joe's hips as he hauls him back onto his dick, and the obscene slapping sound of skin on skin fills the room.

Nick's going too hard, he knows he is, pushing Joe up the bed with the force of it, making Joe grunt with every thrust. Joe's body is just so hot around him, squeezing perfectly and Nick can't control it, can't make himself slow down. He groans Joe's name harshly and digs his fingers into Joe's hips when he comes. 

Nick lets himself fall on top of Joe afterwards, Joe's elbows collapsing under him as Nick's body covers his.

Nick rolls them both onto their sides, not pulling out, closing his eyes and sinking into a post-orgasmic haze.

It's probably at least ten long, slow minutes later when Joe is shifting, letting out a small sigh. "Mmm," he hums. "Yeah, he didn't get to you at all. You care so little about Julian that I'm going to be feeling that for days."

Nick flushes a little in guilt, noses at the nape of Joe's neck. "Sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't mean to take it out on you."

Joe rolls his hips back, ass flexing, and Nick feels himself going thick and stiff again, so fast it's almost painful. "Make it up to me," Joe says quietly, shifting again and rocking himself onto Nick's dick. "fuck me properly, Nick."

He squeezes down on Nick, deliberate, and just like that Nick's all the way hard again, heat sparking. He turns them back over, getting Joe onto his stomach. Joe is all wet inside from Nick's come and Nick slides in easier this time, going deep and actually paying attention to Joe's reaction, to the way his breath hitches when Nick twists his hips a little. He curves over Joe's back, covers him and just rocks his hips, kisses along the line of Joe's shoulders, the base of his neck. 

"That's, oh, yes, that's better," Joe breathes. Nick runs his hands up Joe's arms and links their fingers, getting himself a bit of leverage as he speeds up. Joe whines high in his throat when Nick ruts in particularly hard and stays there. "You're mine," Nick pants, nudging in as deep as he can and squeezing down on Joe's hands. 

"I know," Joe pants. "Oh god, Nick, I know I am. Ungh, you feel so good -"

Nick nuzzles his nose hard into the side of Joe's head, skin slicking with Joe's sweat before moving his mouth right up to Joe's ear. "No one else gets you."

Joe nods frantically. "No one," he promises, "it's just you, god, I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm - oh, Nick," Joe moans, turns his head and bites down hard on Nick's bicep as his body tightens up and he comes with a muffled whimper. His body tightens in pulses around Nick's cock and Nick comes again in slow, hot throbs, vision blurring with it.

Joe's still wet from Nick's first load and he imagines how full Joe is now, feels the wet slide of it when Nick pulls out with a groan. He leans back, rubs his fingers through the thick dribble of it on the inside of Joe's thighs. It fills Nick with an odd sense of pride, seeing Joe marked up like that, yet another reminder that Joe is his.

Tomorrow, he promises himself, Prince Julian will be reminded too.

 

It's a long, harsh day of meetings before Nick sees Joe again. He's walking the grounds with Julian again, just the two of them this time. Julian is telling a deeply boring story about his acclomplishments in jousting and Nick, desperate for distraction, leads them toward the castle's lake. "I know it's not as nice as Aurora's," Nick says as they approach the shore, glad the weather is warm enough for what he has planned. "But I think you'll find the view is quite beautiful."

As expected, Joe is there, waist deep as he sluices water over his bare chest. He waves when he sees them, wades to the shore and shakes his hair out like a dog. "Your highness," he says, bowing to Julian. "And your highness," he gives Nick a cheeky grin and adjusts the sagging waistband of his soaked linen trousers, the only clothing he's wearing.

"Joseph," Julian says pleasantly, eyes raking over Joe's torso. Joe's all marked up, bruised in varying shades of pink and purple. There's lovebites sucked deep into his throat and collarbone, imprint of Nick's fingers around his hips, and Nick doesn't suppress the proud grin that comes over his face at the sight.

"I was planning on asking, again, if I could have the pleasure of your company one evening," Julian says slowly, still taking in the marks Nick left. "But I have a feeling your prince is keeping you well occupied."

Joe licks a drop of water off his lips and Nick knows that both he and Julian follow the movement hungrily. The difference, Nick thinks happily, is that he gets to do something about it.

"My prince," Joe says, and the way he says it, warm, mouth working affectionately around the words, makes Nick's heart skip a beat. "My prince does a very good job of filling my...time."

Nick's eyes widen a little and he turns his gasp into a sudden coughing fit. He steers Julian away, turning back only long enough to catch Joe giving him a cheeky wink before he dives back into the water.

 

Nearly a full month later, Nick finds himself dressing, yet again, to meet with delegates from a neighbouring nation. This kingdom is small but proud, and their princess deserves the respect of Nick at least being on time for the procession. Joe watches from the bed as Nick dresses slowly in his formal clothing, rich velvet and supple leather with shining silver fastenings. He stays with Nick most nights, now, almost never bothering to use his own quarters. Nick stopped listening to those warning bells a long time ago.

"Will there be a banquet tonight?" Joe asks hopefully. He runs his hand lazily over his bare chest and stomach and Nick does his best not to look. The sight of Joe sprawled naked in his bed, silk sheets barely coming past his hips, is too tempting.

"Yes," he replies. "I probably won't see you until then. Make sure to be presentable, please."

Joe snorts. "I'm always presentable. Besides, the last time I was presentable at a banquet Prince Julian tried to steal me away, remember?"

"True," Nick concedes. "I have something that might avoid that happening again."

Joe sits up, pulling the sheets around his lap and looking at Nick in interest. "Is that right?"

"Mmm," Nick finishes the buttons on his jacket and sits beside Joe on the bed. He slips one of the heavy rings off his finger and holds it out to Joe. "I want you to wear this."

Joe takes the ring, eyes wide as he inspects it. It's quite plain, really, a thick dark silver thing, engraved with Nick's personal crest. "Nick, this has your seal on it," Joe says, looking up at Nick in wonder. "That's a royal seal.This is - you're only supposed to give this to your knights, or pass it on to your children."

"It's my mark," Nick says, taking the ring and sliding it onto Joe's finger. "When people see you wearing this, they'll know you're mine. They'll know you're important."

"I'm not," Joe says. "Nick, come on. I'm not a knight or a nobleman and I'm certainly not a prince. I'm just a lucky whore who got rescued by a prince. I don't deserve to wear this."

Nick shakes his head, holds Joe's hand steady when Joe tries to pull back. "You do," he says simply, slipping his hand into Joe's hair and pulling him in for a long kiss. "Don't call yourself a whore, pet. That's not what you are, not anymore."

He slips out of the bed and straightens out his clothes, eyeing himself in the full length mirror. "How do I look?"

"Princely," Joe says with a smile, still looking down at the ring on his finger. "This is dangerous, you know. I'll end up flashing it in the face of everyone who talks to me. The whole Kingdom is going to know I'm yours."

Nick grins. "Perfect."


	3.   All's Fair in Love and War

Nick’s kingdom is a peaceful land, prosperous and safe, small but powerful. They haven’t been to war in some years and they will not go again soon.

Or so Joe thought.

Then, the troubles begin. The Aurorans bring the centuries-old border dispute back into the open, sending troops to the valley that divides the two lands. Nick is suddenly busy and absent, spending hours locked in meetings with his father and several wizened advisors, returning to his chambers drained and tense.

Joe does his best to be Nick’s refuge, to make him smile, to make him relax, make him forget. But there’s nothing Joe can do to stop the war barreling toward their kingdom like a runaway horse.

Before he can blink, it seems, Nick is announcing he will lead his men to battle the very next day, riding out to the far border to face death and destruction head-on.

Joe begs, he _begs_ to go with him. What will he do alone in the castle for weeks on end? At least at the front he could help...somehow. Joe has no training as a soldier but that doesn’t stop him from wanting to go to war - from being by Nick’s side, where he belongs. Nick flatly refuses him, and they rage at each other for some time, Joe completely forgetting his place as he argues back.

Finally, Nick screams, ‘I cannot run an army and worry about you at the same time! War is no place for you, Joe! You must stay here, where I know you’re safe. _Please.’_

Joe gives in.

The night before Nick leaves, he’s intense with Joe, almost brutal. He seems determined to leave his mark on him in every way possible; his mouth, teeth, hands all leaving their own imprints on Joe’s skin, and he takes Joe so hard that Joe feels the ache of it for days. He couldn’t have asked for a better way to say goodbye, and in the hours after Nick leaves he will smile to himself and run fingers over the bite marks; press down on the bruises; Nick’s possession spelled out on his skin like a brand.

Nick doesn’t say goodbye. When Joe wakes in the morning, the four-poster they’ve shared for months is empty, and he is informed that Nick’s troop of loyal soldiers is long gone.

 

 

Time passes, and the war rages. The main city empties slowly, more and more men called away to the Front, until even the castle is a ghostly remnant of past glory, filled only with old men, women and children. Joe wanders the grounds like a lost boy; aimless, joyless. He fills his time collecting as much information on the war as possible, because it feels like it brings him closer to Nick, somehow. Every advance, every setback, every battle; Joe will know the details before the day is out. He used to do the same thing with Court information; which feels petty and stupid, now. He also takes to visiting the Temple, joined by dozens of others, also praying for the safe return of loved ones.

His only hope comes in the form of Nick’s messages, carried by worn page-boys who travel the long miles, or sometimes a letter, torn and muddy. Only some of them are addressed to Joe.

With no victory on the horizon, the kingdom despairs even further. The war has already gone for a month, nearly two, with no end in sight. Food runs low; morale moreso, and the city is silent and worried. Every citizen Joe passes in the streets looks exactly how he feels - tense, tired and hungry.

Sleep does not come easily, and when it does, Joe is caught in dreams of Nick being injured, killed, splattered with blood and bruises, hurt, starving. He knows Nick is a fantastic soldier, knows the legends of his prowess with sword and shield, his skill as a fair and clever leader. It doesn’t mean Joe doesn’t worry.

It doesn’t stop him from wanting Nick to come _home._ He misses him;  with his slow, rare smiles, his smug little smirks and the times they spent together, just the two of them. It had taken Joe awhile to get used to having an owner who treats him like a human being, who talks to him, listens to him, and who actually seems to enjoy Joe's company beyond the bedroom. They've come from totally different worlds - Nick from privilege, royalty, and luxury, and Joe from dirt, poverty, slavery. Nick sees past all that, and he's managed to give Joe something he never had - respect.

That's probably the part Joe misses most.

 

 

Joe wrestles his way out of yet another nightmare one morning, finding himself tangled in the silk sheets of Nick’s enormous four-poster. He’s only just managed to release himself from his fabric prison when a voice intones, ‘Good morning, Joseph,’ and Joe’s heart stops beating for a long, terrified moment.

King Paul is seated in one of Nick’s cushy armchairs, looking extremely out of place. His arms are crossed over his chest, face schooled into an expression of haughty disdain as he regards Joe.

Joe is very glad he chose to wear pyjamas.

“Sire! I - I’m sorry, your majesty, Nick gave me the key to his chambers and I’ve just...” Joe stutters, stumbles, stops talking as the king raises an eyebrow impatiently. “I thought it was alright with you,” Joe finishes weakly.

“I was unaware you were staying here until I began asking about for you,” King Paul replies. “However, it is hardly the first time Prince Nicholas has kept me in the dark about matters concerning you, so I am not surprised.”

“You’ve been asking about me?” Joe asks nervously, sitting up in bed and trying to appear dignified despite his messy hair and sleepy eyes. His mind runs through a thousand possibilities of what the king could want with him, each more unpleasant than the last. The king dislikes Joe, he always has, and has tried everything to force Nick into being rid of him for good. And oh, Joe thinks in panic, maybe that’s what he’s here for, maybe he intends to trade or sell Joe off, while Nick is not here to stop him.

When he blurts this concern out loud, the king laughs, but it is not a friendly laugh. “I am not going to sell you, Joseph. In fact, the prince seemed to think I planned the very thing, and threatened me very colourfully if I interfered with you in any way. No, I have a proposition for you, boy.”

Joe stares at him in surprise. “A proposition?”

“It means -”

“I know what it means, your majesty. I can read, you know, even though I’m only a commoner,” Joe says, trying to keep as much malice out of his voice as possible.

The king chooses to ignore his interruption, stroking one large hand over his jaw as he regards Joe thoughtfully. “I do not approve of you, Joseph. I think I made that point very clear when my son rescued you from Duke Cyrus. I think you’re low-class, useless and a waste of my son’s time and attention. In my opinion, Prince Nicholas would be better off without you. However...”

Clenching his teeth against a wave of indignant anger, Joe repeats, “However?”

“My son is extremely fond of you,” King Paul announces. “In fact, I believe you have heard from him more than I have since the war began. I am not blind, Joseph, and I see things. I have seen him happy with you, have seen him smiling and relaxed. You seem to be something of a...a breath of fresh air, if you will. And although I still think that what happens between you in here -” he waves a hand vaguely at the large bed and Joe flushes. “- is a dangerous and dirty indulgence, it is not my place to choose who Nick shares his nights with.”

Joe doesn’t say anything, and the king sighs, suddenly looking old and exhausted. “The war is not ending, boy. If my advisors are correct, it will not end for some time, and my son leads a large and weary army. War does terrible things to a man, and I need to protect him from its ravages in every way that I can.”

Joe has no idea what this has to do with him, so he remains silent and King Paul continues. “In the coming days I will be riding out to the Front to visit my son and bring him fresh troops. One of my best Knights will take over the campaign, allowing Nicholas a brief period for rest and rejuvenation. At that time, I would like to bring a small gift for him. I want you to be that gift.”

Joe can’t contain the loud gasp that escapes him. “Me?”

“I believe a visit from you will be better for him than any food or clothing I can take him. It will make him smile, I hope, and a soldier needs to smile before he faces battle.”

“I’ll do it,” Joe blurts instantly. He’s is having a hard time keeping a wide smile from spreading over his own face. He gets to see _Nick._ “When do we leave?”

 

 

The king laughs, seemingly pleased with Joe’s answer. “Such enthusiasm to go into the battle lines. We ride out at noon tomorrow. Be ready for a long journey, my boy. War is no place for a spoiled concubine, and war is where we are going.”

Joe dismisses the jab, joy welling inside him. He gets to see _Nick._

 

 

 

Nick parries, falls back, lunges forward, His sword slashes through the air, lightning quick, the clang of metal on metal a reassuring, familiar sound. His opponent is taller than him, stronger, but Nick has more skill, more speed, and they dance together for five more minutes until a final stab to the man’s neck awards Nick the victory.

Nick pants, reaches under his visor to wipe sweat from his face. He looks around, surveying the battlefield with a sigh. He may have won this little stoush but all around him, his men are falling back. To the east, the deep red of his banners fly high but he can see Sir Bradman’s platoon retreating, the other group to the west following suit. Nick huffs a frustrated breath, leaps back onto his horse and signals the closest of his knights to his side. “Henrie, it’s over. Tell the men to fall back, we need to make camp for the night.”

David, bleeding from a gash over one eye, nods and urges his horse forward, yelling, “Fall back! The prince commands you to fall back!”

 

 

It’s long hours before Nick is able to even think about resting. The camp must be set up, food organised for the troops from their ever-dwindling rations, scouts sent out to patrol for sneak attacks, and of course, his attendance is required at yet another meeting with his knights.

Eyes stinging with exhaustion, Nick is finally able to dismiss his people for the night and retreat to his private tent. He can already see it’s lit from the inside; no doubt one of the devoted page-boys has set up his sleeping furs and, hopefully, left some food.

He strips slowly out of his armour outside the tent; there is no room for it inside and someone will need to clean the mud off it before tomorrow anyway. Nick sighs as his squire, Peter, helps ease the heavy weight off his shoulders and sets it aside. He claps a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Thank you, Peter. You are dismissed until morning.” Peter bows deeply and disappears from sight, leaving Nick alone.

Brushing the heavy fabric of the tent aside, Nick walks in and barely suppresses a great shout of surprise. Joe is there. There, in Nick’s tent, laid out on Nick’s sleeping furs with a lazy, inviting smile on his face, like all Nick’s dreams come true.

“Joseph,” Nick breathes, stumbling forward, blinking fast as though to make sure Joe is not a mirage. Joe looks simply perfect, dressed in dark pants and an impeccably clean burgundy shirt. The buttons are open halfway down his chest, revealing the tan, inviting skin of Joe’s throat. The mere fact that he’s clean, not muddy and worn like every other person Nick has seen for the past month, is something of a miracle.

“Your Highness,” Joe says, face breaking into a wide, excited grin. He sits up slightly as Nick drops to his knees beside him, allows Nick’s hand to land on his chest, fingers curling in the soft fabric.

“How...?” Nick says. Joe’s skin feels warm even through the shirt, solid and real, and the lamplight dances over his familiar features, but Nick still thinks this feels too good to be true.

“I’m a gift,” Joe’s smile is coy, eyes shining with laughter as he reaches for Nick’s hand, guides it under his shirt so Nick’s fingers brush over his nipple, then down over his flat stomach, the curve of his hip. He arches slightly under the touch and Nick gulps, skin prickling with sudden heat. He hasn’t touched another person like this in _weeks._

“A gift,” Nick repeats, watching with wide eyes as Joe unbuttons the rest of his shirt.

“Mmm,” Joe agrees absently, nimble fingers now tugging at the undershirt Nick had on under his armour. “From your father, I believe there will be a message explaining in the morning. In the meantime, all you have to do is decide what you want to do with me.”

“I can think of a few things,” Nick says hoarsely, feeling himself harden in his pants as he trails his fingertips lightly over Joe’s stomach and chest. Joe catches his hand and brings it to his mouth to suck two thick digits between his lips, eyes darkening with lust. Nick watches his fingers disappear slowly in and out of Joe’s mouth, transfixed and breathing hard.

Joe breaks the spell that has fallen between them by releasing Nick’s hand and wrapping his own around the back of Nick’s neck, dragging him down. Their mouths meet painfully, a clash of teeth and tongues but Nick relishes it, the kiss hot and bruising and perfect.

Their reunion is quick and rough, desperate. They kiss as they fight their way out of their clothes, Nick’s hands skimming over every part of Joe he can reach; chest, stomach, hips, stroking his cock in a light, teasing movement that makes Joe moan loudly and pull Nick’s hair. “C’mon, c’mon,” Joe is muttering under his breath, hands demanding on Nick’s shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle. He gets both hands on Nick’s ass, grabs at him, yanks Nick forward so Nick is on top of him and Nick grinds down on instinct, both of them groaning at the rough friction. Joe’s legs spread around Nick’s hips as they move against each other, Nick sinking his teeth into Joe’s neck and licking at the sweat gathering there.

He’s panting into Joe’s neck, cock dripping precome and Nick doesn’t think he’s even been so hard in his life. He fumbles between Joe’s legs, rubs dry fingers over Joe’s entrance, almost jabbing at him and Joe hisses. “Wait, wait, I’ve got...lemme just..” he’s trying to reach for a small satchel on the floor while keeping Nick as close as possible and it doesn’t exactly work out. Joe laughs breathlessly when Nick finally detaches his teeth from his throat long enough for Joe to reach into the bag. He’s back a second later, practically throwing a small jar at Nick. “Okay, do it, do it now.”

The thick, oily salve drips over Nick’s hand and he preps Joe as fast as he can, never breaking their kiss. Joe’s tighter than ever, untouched all these weeks and Nick is nearly mad with it, the warm hold of Joe’s body around his fingers and the way he rocks his hips, welcoming the intrusion with soft whimpers and little gasps against Nick’s lips.

“Nick,” Joe cries out, arching hard when Nick twists two fingers inside him just right. “That’s enough, just do it, just go -”

Nick doesn’t hesitate, pulls his fingers from Joe’s body and curls them around his waist, flipping Joe easily. Joe goes with it, turning his head to rest his cheek against the thick furs, rising slightly onto his knees and he’s reaching back, fingering himself in quick, hard little jerks as he waits for Nick to slick his cock. Nick allows himself the indulgence of watching for one long moment, hand stroking the length of Joe’s spine before he’s pushing Joe’s hand aside and lining himself up.

It’s pure urgency as Nick pushes, shoves, presses inside Joe’s body in one deep thrust that forces a thick, wordless cry from Joe’s throat. Nick can see his face screwed up against the furs, breathing hard through his nose and it gives Nick pause. He’s white knuckled around Joe’s hips, forcing himself to give Joe a moment as he adjusts to the thick length of Nick inside him for the first time in weeks.

Nick curves himself over Joe’s back, peppers light kisses over the old scars, licks a line from one shoulder to the other. “Breathe, pet,” Nick murmurs, allows a small note of affection to sneak into his tone and Joe is nodding, spreading his legs wider so Nick slides in the final inch, balls snugged tight up against Joe’s body. He presses one last, sloppy kiss to Joe’s back before pulling back and starting to fuck him, riding Joe hard while his fingers dig into the soft flesh of Joe’s hips.

Joe moans while Nick fucks him, a loud, helpless noise as his hands clench in the furs and sweat glistens on his back. It won’t last, it can’t, not with how long they’ve been waiting and Nick is on the edge before he knows it, balls tightening and breath hitching. He reaches under to find Joe’s cock, heavy and thick in his fist and he jerks Joe quick, wrist snapping. Joe cries out at the touch, ass spasming and clenching perfectly around Nick, hips bucking almost violently as he comes over Nick’s hand. Nick lasts maybe one thrust after that, grunting as he ruts hard into Joe, stills, comes, face pressed between the wings of Joe’s shoulder blades as his cock pulses and jerks inside him.

Nick is exhausted after, barely musters the energy to pull out of Joe and roll him over, pulling the thick furs around their naked bodies and passing out with his face mashed into the back of Joe’s neck.

 

 

It’s the heat that wakes Nick. They’re still wrapped in the sleeping furs when Nick’s eyes blink open and he finds himself staring at Joe’s sleeping face. It’s too close and too hot and Nick throws the furs back from his body, sighing in relief when cool air hits his skin. Joe’s eyes flutter at the sudden change in temperature and he gazes sleepily back at Nick, yawning. “Good morning, your highness.”

“Good morning,” Nick tucks his hand under his cheek, watching as Joe blinks himself awake. “Why are you here, again?” It comes out ruder than he meant it, but he really has no clue what brought Joe to his bed.

Joe snorts with laughter. “I told you, sire. I’m a gift from your father.”

Nick’s eyebrows narrow. “I don’t understand. My father hates you.”

“He does,” Joe agrees. “But he said - what was it - _my son is extremely fond of you, boy_ \- and that spending time with me would be good for you. So here I am.”

“So you’re just...here. For me to what, amuse myself with while my soldiers are out fighting?”

Joe shrugs. “Something like that, I suppose. Maybe he just thought you needed some company. And, you know, if you are ‘extremely fond’ of me...”

Nick rolls his eyes but can’t hide the way his cheeks burn slightly and Joe grins in delight. “You are fond of me, aren’t you, Prince Nicholas?”

Nick shakes his head and fights to keep a straight face. “Not at all. You’re merely a body to me, that’s all -”

“Lies!” Joe clambers on top of Nick, straddling his waist and leaning down to try and pin Nick’s wrists to the floor. Nick’s stronger and bigger but Joe’s quick; gets him down before Nick can think to fight back, and Joe is grinning down at him. “You like me,” he sing-songs. “You want to keep me forever, you dreamed about me every night, you missed me the most while you were away. You wrote songs about your deepest love for me and they’ll be sung all over the kingdom -”

“Enough!” Nick tries to keep his tone commanding but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and Joe sees right through him.

“They’ll write poems about our love, Nicholas, the little children will tell each other stories about it, about how you...fought off a horde of ravenous sheep for me or -”

 _“A horde of ravenous sheep?_ ” Nick repeats incredulously.

Joe shrugs. “It was the first thing that came into my mind.”

“I think I could do better than a horde of ravenous sheep.”

“Fine, a horde of ravenous dragons then!”

“Dragons don’t even live on this side of the kingdom, Joseph, they’ve all retreated to the mountains in the East -”

Joe cuts him off by smacking a loud, obnoxious kiss to Nick’s mouth. “Just admit you missed me.”

Quietening, Nick leans back and regards the boy in his lap. Sweet, coy, occasionally irritating but mostly entertaining, the best kisser Nick’s ever met and one of the only people in his life he truly considers a friend. All this tangles with Nick’s deep feelings of possession for Joe, and the attraction that sparks between them like fire. Yes, Nick missed him.

“I missed you,” Nick admits simply, thumbing at Joe’s naked hip, pressing down on a bruise there in the shape of his hand. Joe draws in a quick breath above him, biting his lip. Nick does it again, other hand reaching for the skin of Joe’s chest, touching at bite marks, bruises. “I missed this,” he says, not sure whether he means the touching, Joe’s skin, or just the two of them together.

Joe’s eyes follow him as Nick continues to touch his body, noting with a deep frown that Joe has lost weight. He was tiny when Nick first rescued him, half-starved and scrawny, and it’s been a delight to see the hollows of his cheeks fill out, his body returning to full strength. With the war making good food difficult to come by, Joe is looking slender again. His ribs are more prominent under his skin than Nick remembers; his face has lost the full glow of health he had when Nick left. “Aren’t they feeding you properly at the castle, Joe?” Nick asks. “The rations -”

Joe shrugs, looking away. “We’re doing our best, but there’s not much to go around and there are always others who need it more than me...”

“No,” Nick interrupts bluntly. He shouldn’t be surprised that Joe would give away his rations to the less fortunate; he’s got a heart two sizes too big and always forgets to think about himself. “You are not to give away or share your rations with anyone, Joe, do you understand?”

“But - the civilians -”

“Will be fine. I’m ordering you to take care of yourself before others, pet. Don’t take this lightly.”

Joe merely nods and Nick resumes his exploration of Joe’s body, relearning its shape, its feel, tracing over every inch of smooth skin. It’s an indulgence, Nick knows - he can hear the rest of the camp stirring outside - but he’s been aching for exactly this for such a long time that it’s difficult to draw himself away.

When he reaches Joe’s face, they both go quiet, Nick feeling uncharacteristically tender. He thumbs over Joe’s sharp cheekbones, traces fingertips over his thick eyebrows, feels the jut of his jaw and the flutter of his lashes against Nick’s palm.

He’d worried, that’s all. Late nights that were not filled of war nightmares and flashbacks to battle brought Nick thoughts of Joe back at the castle, sick or starved, hurt. Having Joe here again, whole and healthy (despite needing a few good meals), makes Nick feel almost overwhelmingly relieved, fond, even, and the feeling shows as he traces Joe’s features like he’s trying to memorise every inch of him.  Maybe he is.

Joe smiles when Nick’s fingers reach his mouth, nipping playfully at Nick’s fingers. Nick cups his chin, pad of his thumb pressing on the fullness of Joe’s lower lip, feeling the cushioned softness of it. “Definitely...missed this,” Nick says thickly as he continues to touch Joe’s mouth. He holds his thumb down against Joe’s lip, releases, watches as it floods with colour again, beginning to go swollen and dark from his attention.

Unfortunately, Peter chooses this moment to open the flap of Nick’s tent. The teen’s eyes widen comically as he takes in the sight of his prince, naked, with another man straddling his lap. Nick sits up abruptly, causing Joe to slide off him with a quiet sigh.

Peter is bright red as he sets down Nick’s breakfast and lays out his newly polished armour. Joe seems amused, languishing back against the blankets with a small smile on his face. Nick notices Peter’s gaze flick over Joe in open curiosity before focusing determinedly on Nick. “The men await your command, your highness. Would you like me to retrieve some breakfast for your...companion?”

“Joe will share with me. Find Henrie, Taylor, Efron and the rest of the captains and have them assembled for me in fifteen minutes.”

“Ooh, breakfast!” Joe exclaims enthusiastically, picking up a large slice of bread and cheese. “The prince has given me _quite_ the appetite this morning.”

The words, coupled with Joe’s garish wink and the fact that he’s still completely nude, make Peter choke on thin air. Taking pity, Nick waves him out. “Thank you, Peter. That will be all.”

“That was cruel,” he says to Joe with a laugh as he takes a bite of food.

Joe shrugs. “No point being delicate about it,” he says. “Everyone knows what I’m here for.”

 

 

As it turns out, Joe is right.

As they prepare to ride out an hour later, Henrie and the other knights all keep giving Nick knowing, teasing looks until Nick sighs and says, “Okay, out with it.”

“It’s nothing, your highness,” David’s eyes twinkle as he saddles his horse. “We were merely wondering if you’re tired this morning after your...visitor last night?”

“You heard about that?” Nick says lightly, tugging on his leather riding gloves.

“Oh, we heard.” David grins. “He doesn’t exactly keep quiet, does he?”

There’s no malice in his voice and Nick happens to know that David quite likes Joe, so he merely smiles. “I think you’re just jealous, Sir Henrie.”

“Maybe,” David agrees. “Maybe I should ask Joe to visit me tonight, instead?”

He’s damn lucky Nick considers him a brother, Nick thinks to himself, because any other knight would find a sword pressed to his throat for such a remark. Several of the other men are laughing but it doesn’t bother Nick in the slightest. He mounts his horse with ease, gathers the reins and announces, “Any of you make one move toward him and you’ll be on latrine duty for a week.”

The knights fall silent and Nick grins to himself. “Right. Let’s ride, shall we?”

 

 

Joe stays with the battalion for nearly two weeks. Nick knows he should send him home; that it’s dangerous for Joe to stay and that he’s a terrible distraction otherwise. But it’s the distraction that’s been so good for Nick, and he can’t make himself send Joe away just yet.

They’ve been marching for days, in pursuit of a large band of Aurorans encamped in a stronghold some leagues to the west. Every night, Nick sits in tedious meetings in the main tent, surrounded by knights and arguing about how best to approach the coming battle.

“If we approach from the north..” Sir Hugo is saying, pacing the length of the tent. “We may be able to get some leverage and a good place to put our archers.”

“No,” Nick argues, leaning back in his seat. “It’ll make us vulnerable to Thomas’ lot in the east. We need to find a way to get around him and access the front, attack with our cavalry - we have the numbers and the strength over them, we just have to find the location.”

Murphy strokes his beard thoughtfully. “Maybe if we snuck around, then doubled back...”

Nick sighs, glancing around the tent. Murphy, Hugo and Jonathan stand at a makeshift table, poring over maps while Nick sits somewhat apart on the only seat. Joe is sitting at Nick’s feet, playing with one of Jonathan’s messenger dogs as he waits for Nick to finish.

“If we just had a way of breaking up their ranks,” Nick muses, absently reaching out and curling his fingers into Joe’s hair. Joe barely reacts, but Nick notices Hugo’s eyes follow his hand as he continues to stroke through Joe’s messy waves. “Yes,” Hugo is saying. “If we could distract them, force them to split...we may have a chance.”

Nick thinks this over silently for a moment, scritching his fingers lightly against Joe’s head so Joe sighs, leaning against Nick’s knee. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other all day - Joe rides in the back with the other servants while Nick marches ahead with his knights. Nick feels tired and sore from weeks of relentless marching on little food, and the stress of war weighs heavily on his shoulders. There’s nothing he wants more than to send his men away and lose himself in Joe’s warmth instead.

He makes himself sit through another hour of war talk, the night darkening to inky black outside the tent. It’s warm inside from the fire and their voices soften to tired murmurs at the late hour. Nick is ready to dismiss his men, tired of the endless arguing, when Hugo speaks up tentatively. “Sire, we have been meaning to ask you...”

“Yes?”

“This - uh - companion of yours...how long will he be staying with us?”

Joe has stilled, tensing up against Nick’s leg and Nick buries his hand in Joe’s hair again, facing Hugo. “Does he bother you?”

“Of course not, Your Highness. It’s merely...the boy is not trained in combat, sire. If the Aurorans catch us by surprise, he would be in grave danger, would he not?”

It’s not a new thought for Nick, but he stiffens indignantly all the same. “Are you implying that I cannot protect my own concubine, Hugo?”

“No! I - of course not -” Hugo glances around, looking for help, and Murphy clears his throat. “I believe the concern, your majesty, is that the Aurorans may choose to strike those - ahem - closest to the royal family, which places Joseph in a somewhat precarious position. He cannot be with you at all times, especially when you are in battle. We are merely asking whether it is suitable that he stay with the army..?”

Nick frowns. “He’ll stay as long as I deem it suitable, but thank you for your concern.”

His tone is final, and Hugo bows awkwardly. “Of course, sire.”

“That’s enough for tonight,” Nick says loudly, addressing the rest of the men. “Dismissed.”

 

 

Nick leads Joe back to his own tent in silence, feeling more stressed than ever and wide awake despite the late hour. “Do you think he was right?” Joe asks as they undress, looking slightly worried. “Do you think someone’s going to try and attack me?”

“Of course not,” Nick says dismissively. “If anyone’s getting attacked, it’s me, Joe. I’m the Prince. And I’m the most heavily protected person in this army, not to mention the strongest fighter, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Joe nods, looking mollified, and crawls into Nick’s sleeping furs. Nick follows, stretching out on his back and drawing Joe close, still thinking deeply about the upcoming battle and tonight’s talks. Joe, reassured by Nick’s words, appears less concerned. He sets about laying wet, slow kisses down Nick’s chest as Nick cards his hands through his hair, staring distractedly up at the ceiling of the tent.

“Maybe you should have some combat lessons,” he murmurs, wondering exactly what Joe would do if he was one day attacked by real soldiers. He amuses himself for a moment, imagining Joe talking his way out of the situation (or, more likely, seducing his attacker); but the reality is that Joe would be in danger, without a clue how to defend himself, and the thought makes Nick frown.

“Mmm,” Joe hums, more interested in nosing along the cut of Nick’s hipbone. “Sounds fun.”

“I’m serious, Joe.”

Joe looks up at him. “I know you are. And I’ll do it, whatever you want. But can we talk about it tomorrow? I’m kind of busy right now.”

Nick huffs a frustrated breath, ready to talk Joe into being serious for once, but then Joe’s mouth closes around the head of his cock and Nick forgets how to talk altogether.

 

 

 

 

"You have to move your feet, Joe! You can't just stand there and let me come at you every time!"

"You're too fast, you always get me pinned before I can think!"

"Anticipate my movements. You have to be able to read my body language, think of where I might strike next. No, keep the sword closer to your body; you're leaving your middle exposed - okay, better...no!"

Joe sighs, flinging his sword aside with a heavy clatter and brushing sweaty hair off his face. "Can we stop for the day? I'm bored and I'm not getting any better."

Nick frowns, lowering his own sword and watching as Joe walks to the other side of the small clearing to take a cup of water from Peter. "You just have to concentrate, Joe. You're not paying attention to what I'm telling you."

"I am!" Joe strips out of his shirt, throwing it aside in frustration, and Nick doesn't blame him. It's a swelteringly hot day, sun beating down on them and he's been working them hard, determined to help Joe learn something to defend himself with.

It's been hard going; Joe's reluctant and slow, completely unfamiliar with the fighting that's felt as natural to Nick as walking for most of his life. He's also easily distracted; wandering off for food or to talk to servants he spots walking by. It's been all Nick can do to get Joe to concentrate on actually fighting him.

"Listen, this body was not made for fighting," Joe says now, indicating his bare torso. "I'm a whore, Nick, not a soldier. This is useless."

"Well, you're not going to be able to fuck the Aurorans to death, are you?" Nick retorts meanly, flexing his hand distractedly around the hilt of his sword.

Joe grins darkly. "I could try."

"Just...either you let me teach you how to defend yourself or you go home. They're your choices, Joe, because if we get attacked I'm not going to be able to watch over you."

Joe looks up, his expression hardening. "I'm not leaving you."

Nick tries very hard to not let his relief show in his voice. "Good. Pick up your sword."

 

They fight. Over and over again, Nick shouting instructions as they move in circles around the little clearing, chasing each other, swords flying and sweat dripping from their bodies. Nick strips his own shirt off in the next round, his battle-hardened body exposed to the merciless heat of the sun as they practice late into the afternoon.

He's seeing a new side of Joe, now. Seeing the eyes that usually dance and glint with mirth narrowed in concentration, seeing hands that usually dance teasingly over Nick's skin now clenched tight around smooth, hard metal. He's always thought Joe had a kind of cat-like grace to him, a slink in his movements as he sprawled out in Nick's bed or danced at royal balls. With practice, Nick is seeing that grace being translated into Joe's fighting. He's getting faster, more confident, his body moving more freely under Nick's guidance. As the afternoon wears on, Nick can't help but admire Joe for his improvement; this is only their fifth lesson.

"Good, Joe!" Nick says when Joe finally masters a complicated move. "Alright, I think that's enough with the longsword."

"Finally," Joe sighs in relief and throws the sword aside, slumping against a nearby tree.

"Let's try with a dagger," Nick says, producing the short blades, and Joe groans.

Fighting with the daggers is a different game altogether. They have to get much closer to try and attack each other, colliding bodily with muffled thumps and rough groans. Twice, Joe elbows Nick in the stomach or manages to get the dagger pressed over his heart, but otherwise Nick dominates their battles, as he has been so far.

Three feet away, Nick grips his dagger, eyeing Joe as they circle each other. "Come on," he murmurs, watching Joe's eyes flicker over him, waiting for an opening.

Joe rushes him but Nick is prepared, throwing the short sword up so their blades clang against each other between them, their faces inches apart. "You're getting good," Nick admits, panting out the words, chest heaving. 

Joe grins, white teeth flashing, and leaps deftly back, in, swings his sword up again and catches Nick a glancing blow in the shoulder. It throbs. Nick growls deep in his throat, blood coursing hot through his veins with the excitement of battle. Right, left, overhand, underhand, steel singing as their swords meet, Joe's body sleek and glistening with sweat as he dances frustratingly out of reach. Nick forces it, slashing, hacking, faster, pressing Joe back and back, lunging, feinting, makes Joe lose his balance with a shout of surprise. It's the opening Nick needed and he moves quick, darting behind Joe and twisting one arm up behind his back. "Let go," Nick hisses in Joe's ear, and the sword falls from Joe's other hand, landing in the grass with a small thump.

They're both gasping for air and Nick is still pressed up all against Joe's back, their skin burning hot at every point of contact. He licks at the line of Joe's throat, all the way from Joe's bare shoulder to his ear, and Joe shudders against him. Nick bites Joe's earlobe and lets go of his arm, twisting Joe away from him. "Again."

 

After that, things get a bit more interesting. They're both half hard in their loose pants, staring each other down across the clearing. Peter is watching avidly in the background and Nick flicks his fingers angrily in his direction. "Leave us," Nick barks, and the boy scrambles away.

Nick's body is singing with energy, every nerve and muscle on high alert as he looks Joe over again, a predatory zing of pleasure rushing through him as he recognises some of the marks he's left on Joe's golden skin in recent nights. Joe is his for the taking, always has been, and right now Nick very, very much wants to take.

He drops the dagger. "How are you at hand to hand combat?"

"I think we're about to find out."

Joe's sword disappears and he stretches his arms over his head, sunlight glinting off the lean muscles of his stomach, and Nick swallows. He wants to fight and he wants to fuck, animal instincts warring against each other and he licks his lips in anticipation.

They meet in the middle of the clearing and Nick grunts in surprise when Joe lands the first blow; a hard punch to Nick's gut and he doubles over for a moment, recovers, strikes Joe's left side, jumps back to avoid Joe's kick. This is nothing like the swordfighting. Joe's _good_ at this, fast and ruthless and Nick soon finds he can barely keep up. They wrestle, grapple, struggle against each other and Nick is shocked to find he's _losing_. Joe fights like a cornered animal, almost desperate, reckless, taking as many hits as he gives but he doesn't seem to notice. Nick almost forgets this is just supposed to be practice, that he's not on a real battlefield here, that Joe is far from his enemy. 

It takes five minutes of hard struggle for Joe to pin Nick to the ground.

Nick doesn't know how it even happens, but he's flat on his back with Joe straddling him, wrists held hard in Joe's grip and Joe panting, "Yield," in Nick's face.

Nick goes lax, feeling weak with shock. Joe looks like a stranger, sitting astride Nick's hips not like the companion Nick knows so well, but like a _warrior._ He's red in the face and there's a bruise swelling on one side of his chest, a gift from Nick's fist. A gash bleeds freely on his forearm and there's a fire, a strength to him that Nick has never noticed before. The expression on Joe's face in brutal, rough, his eyes dark and glinting dangerously.

"Joe?" Nick says uncertainly. He's never seen violence from Joe, not in the whole time they've known each other. The sudden brutality of Joe's attack has him off-balance, worried.

Joe's expression clears slowly and the bruising grip on Nick's wrist loosens by degrees. "Nick - I..."

"What _was_ that?"

A shadow crosses Joe's face and he wipes quickly at a trickle of blood falling over one eye. "That," he says grimly. "Is how you fight when you're one of six starving slaves and your owner throws you five pieces of bread. Like a dog."

Nick stares at him. Joe's only ever given dark hints of what his life was like before Nick; Nick only knows that Joe's been a slave most of his life and that some of his owners were cruel, harsh. Nick's never been very good at offering comfort, especially since Joe is so closed off about his past, and Joe's statement has Nick speechless. For some reason, he feels guilty for forcing Joe into fighting him at all.

There's an uncomfortable silence and Nick is ashamed to realise he's still hard from the heat of Joe's body in his lap. His face burns and Joe climbs off him, turning away. The line of his shoulders is tense and Nick leaves him, fumbles to pull his shirt back on and gather their discarded weapons. 

"That's enough for today," Nick says finally and Joe nods mutely, wincing as he pulls his clothes on over his new injuries. "Come on, pet. The medic will have a salve for that cut."

Joe nods gratefully and they leave the clearing together, Nick's head still spinning with unasked questions.

 

 

Joe goes to his knees for Nick that night, as always, but Nick pushes him away. "I have no use for you tonight, Joe," he says, and can't tell if it's hurt or relief that flashes over Joe's face when he leans back.

"Actually," Nick says, sitting on a large cushion on the floor of his tent, regarding Joe thoughtfully. "I was thinking we could talk."

"Talk about what?" Joe says, tone guarded and carefully casual.

"About what happened today. About your other owners."

Joe snorts, uncharacteristically harsh when he replies, "You're not my nursemaid, sire. You don't need to - to listen to my tales of woe and tell me everything is going to be alright."

"Maybe I want to." There's a curiosity burning inside Nick, a need to know everything about Joe. He knows Joe's body like his own; thought he knew his mind and his heart, too.

Clearly, he was wrong.

Joe makes a frustrated noise, running his hand through his hair. "Sure you do. Look, your highness. If you want my services tonight, ask for them. You don't have to pretend you care about my life story first."

"Why wouldn't I care?" 

"Because I'm just your concubine, not your sweetheart! You don't have to court me, or worry about me, or talk to me at all, really. Prince, whore. It's a pretty standard relationship, Nick."

Nick huffs a frustrated breath, Joe's bitter words stinging. "Well, I always thought we were a bit more than standard."  


"What?" Joe looks up at him and Nick nearly laughs. "I practically branded you, pet. Don't you remember, when Prince Julian visited? I gave you that ring for a reason.  You've never been 'just' my concubine, you fool."  
  
Joe is looking fondly at the heavy silver ring Nick gave him months ago, and he smiles slightly when he looks up at Nick. "And you've never been just my prince," he says quietly.  
  
Nick smiles at that and leans over, kissing Joe. He makes it much softer than usual and Joe seems pleased, smiling against Nick's mouth before they pull away. Nick tries not to show too many of his crooked teeth as he grins back. He clears his throat in what he hopes is an official way."Right, now that we've got that sorted. Can you please tell me something about why you nearly killed me today?"

Joe sighs, stares away into the distance for a moment, then finally begins to talk.

Nick learns a lot that night. Not everything; he suspects there are parts of Joe's history that he may never know, or have to find out for himself. But what he does learn goes a long way to helping him to understand the boy he's come to think of as his own.

Nick learns of a warm childhood, of Joe being orphaned at a young age when his mother took ill with a hacking cough. He learns of slave markets and hard labour, of kind owners and cruel ones, of friends, enemies, sadness and happiness and everything in between. Joe skates over many of the details; he won't tell Nick how old he was when he was first used as a sex slave, nor where he got the worst of his scars, but Nick is content to leave such questions for another day.  


"And then you found me," Joe says finally, looking up at Nick. "And a year later, here I am."  
  
Nick can't help the question that bursts from his lips. "Are you happy, Joe? With me?"  
  
"Yes." Joe's simple answer has Nick looking up at him but Joe smiles. "Well, think about it. You don't beat me, you don't lend me out to your ugly friends for quick fucks, you don't make me sleep in the servants' quarters, and you protect me from your horrible father. That easily makes you the best owner I've ever had."  
  
"Are those the only reasons?" Nick asks, feeling slightly disappointed.  
  
Joe's grin is confident and teasing, much more like the boy Nick knows and Joe slides into his lap, hands cupping the back of Nick's neck. "Well, it also helps that you're kind to me. And you talk to me instead of just fucking me, and actually care whether I enjoy the sex or not, and let me do as I wish in my spare time," he drops a kiss against Nick's jaw, the corner of his mouth. "And it's very, very rare that a sex slave actually craves their owner instead of the other way around, you know."  
  
He shifts sinuously in Nick's lap, ass rubbing against Nick in obvious invitation and Nick raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"  
  
"Mmm," Joe nods. "Then again, I've serviced some pretty disgusting men so I guess you just seem attractive by comparison..."  
  
"Shut up," Nick mutters, their noses brushing when he leans in and presses their lips together. Joe makes a satisfied noise, his fingers curling in the soft hair at the back of Nick's neck. He can feel the cold press of Joe's ring against the sensitive skin and Nick smiles inwardly at the thought. He slides his hands slowly down Joe's back, cupping his ass and guiding Joe's movements on him.  
  
Joe rides him that night, arching deliciously above Nick and moving on him slow and deep as he works them both to a crashing climax. And later, when Nick lays him out and maps Joe's body with his tongue, he will know the stories behind some of the scars, some of Joe's mystery revealed. He makes sure to leaves his own marks; soft bites and bruises sucked into Joe's skin. Nick hates that Joe bears the evidence of violence and hate on his body; better he carry the brand of Nick's desire, Nick's possession.  
  
And yes, Nick thinks as they drift off to sleep, curled tight and warm in the sleeping furs...  
  
Maybe even Nick's love.

  
  
 


End file.
